


A Million Men

by Livan



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Death, F/M, M/M, Miscarriage, Non-Graphic Violence, Prostitution, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livan/pseuds/Livan
Summary: Rebecca Duffy believed to be a widow. When Colm O'Driscoll reveals that it was quite the opposite, her path turns darker with every step she takes, being a helpless and somewhat naive woman in a world of men.Desperately she tries to find a way out of the mess she got herself into, and by that, she makes it worse.
Relationships: Eventual Relationships - Relationship, Karen Jones & Bill Williamson, Karen Jones/Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. The River

Chapter one – The River

She was just a young widow when the end came for her. Almost twenty-two years old, pregnant in the fifth month.

Her end entered through the door of the hut in the figure of a man named Colm O'Driscoll.   
She had been waiting in there with other O'Driscoll women. Shivering, afraid of how the shooting outside the camp would turn out.   
Rebecca held Victoria, a whore and her friend, in her arms. She stroked her hair, trying to calm herself by calming her.

Judith, an O'Driscoll wife, was the one who stood up and asked the leader whether they should get their things packed up.  
He simply looked at Rebecca. "No. There's nothing left to pack up. Take care of the wounded and leave me alone with 'Becca. I need to talk with her."

Just with that all the women got up and left. Even Victoria freed herself harshly from Rebecca as if she had been held by her against her will.

As the door fell into the lock she swallowed knowing that something wasn't right at all. No, something was more than terribly wrong.  
She stood up but stayed at her position at the wall.

"Miss Duffy, how long have you been living with us?" The way he asked wasn't nice, nor casual. There was something threatening in his voice that made her heart beat faster, though there was no reason to.

"For about half a year."

He nodded and slowly moved up to her. With each step he took the walls seemed to get closer and she turned pale. Colm smiled lightly. He reached out to her not yet big baby-belly and laid his hand on it. She felt the need to slap his hand away, but she didn't. In the end, he had never threatened her personally. Had even been pleasant at times. 

"Aye. That's right. You know, I adore children. Their innocence and joy." Now the widow was confused. Her body relieved until he asked: "How long has it been since you lost your innocence?"

"Excuse me?"

Suddenly he grabbed her throat hard and pushed her back against the wall. She froze under his touch.

"Ever since do you spy for the Van der Lindes?"

"I - I don't!" She stuttered. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

He spat out a laugh. "Of course you don't." His grip got tighter. She could barely breathe. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? Do you think I didn't notice all the times you gave Ray letters? You told the Van der Lindes the location of our camp! What else?"

Rebecca's voice broke when she tried to ask through his grip: "No - no - why would I do that?" Under the pressure, she felt her eyes tearing up. 

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe 'cause your bastard of a husband told you so?" He pressed the words out between his gritted teeth while the hands around her throat tightened.

She took what was left of her courage to grab his arm and push it away just enough so she could repeat the sentence that had haunted her the past weeks. "Kieran's dead!"

And suddenly Colm let go of her. Not surprisingly, when he snatched his hand away from her neck, his filthy nails left scratch marks on her. Air finally entered her lungs and made her cough violently, but before she had a chance to adjust he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her through the door, slamming her outside. After hitting the ground with her head she heard nothing but a high pitched noise. Still, she could tell that Colm was swearing.

"Damn little slut lying in my face. He shot Ethan right between his eyes - not very dead of Kieran - huh?!"

Unable to do anything she wrapped her arms around her belly when he started to kick her in the guts. 

"Have you any idea of how many men you cost me? Good and dear men!" Some of her ribs cracked when his heavy boot hit her a third time. "Get up!"

Rebecca didn't move. She laid there, eyes shut, and begging him to stop.  
"Get up you goddamn whore!" But she didn't so he grabbed her again, pulled her up, and made her look at him. "Admit it."

She weakly shook her head. Then he punched her. At first against the cheekbone, then the jaw. Once he finally let go of her she spat out two molars. 

"Boys, you can do with her whatever you want. Just make her admit."

Rebecca got on her knees, trying to crawl back to the hut, but someone already pushed her back to the ground with his foot. Three followed him. 

In the dusk, they threw her into the river before they abandoned the remains of the camp. All she had admitted was her longing for mercy and that she was innocent.

The first one to find her cold body was a coyote. Drawn by her blood it slowly went closer, lowering its head but even before it reached her it jumped back scared. Half a second later it disappeared between the bushes as she had moved. She was awake for quite a while. Had stopped weeping.

Rebecca had crawled out of the river and delivered her dead son within hours. She laid on the ground, skirts all heavy and soaked by both water and blood. 

Now she held him close to herself. Staring at his tiny body, remembering each feature of him as she wouldn't have him for long.

At first, she had been afraid to look at him, had thought he'd be some bloody creature not yet finished by god, but she was wrong. He was already so very... almost perfect. His body stayed solidly kind of curled up. He had tiny ears, two legs, and arms, even fingernails. 

The woman had no tears left to cry and her throat was too sore to scream by now. She didn't feel the need to get up, even when the daylight faded and the world around her turned even darker than before. Her body was shaking, she felt the cold and was hoping that father death would take her with him. Then she could go with...

Aibne. A glare down at him let her know that this should be his name. A relict of the past which had provided a lighter way for her. One that she had left without a worry. Without fear and obviously without a brain.

And remembering just that it had been her fault, that it had been her wrong decisions, made her angry. Angry not only at herself but also at Colm and - and the whole world and especially at Kieran. 

Kieran wasn't dead. He was alive and because of that Colm O'Driscoll did what he did in the end. Because of those actions her - their son was dead.

Rebecca herself wasn't sure whether she was too or not. She felt dead. Drowned and beat up. Bled out. Shattered and so much more. Yet right that was the point.

Certainly, dead people didn't feel pain or cold, would think or weep. Wouldn't know that they held their child's corpse in their arms. 

Aibne needed a grave.

So she sat up slowly, groaning at the movement and already regretting that choice. Another thing she was unsure about was which physical pain was worse; her ribs or her womb.

With one arm she held Aibne close to her chest with the other she pushed herself up from the ground and crawled away from the river. Almost like a crippled soldier tried to escape the battlefield she crossed the gravelly river bank and reached a path. 

And just by reaching said path, she realized that she had no idea where she was. Rebecca had barely been out of the camp at Six Point Cabin - and before they had settled there five weeks ago they had been up in the mountains. Where Kieran had died at an assault of the Van der Lindes. 

But that didn't matter now. The path went up steeply into light scrubland. Due to that she soon found a branch that made it easier for her to walk, actually to stand up in the first place.

The chilly wind grew stronger as the path stopped to go steep. Finding herself on a high ground where the scrubland slowly turned into a forest, she realized that Six Point Cabin was right at the end of that path. The river hadn't washed her further than half a mile. 

She could have sworn that she was an ocean away.

Without thinking she left the path straight to the right. Now she felt fear almost overwhelming her. There was not a single string of pain in her when she started to walk quicker, soon almost running her stumbly way through the scrubland.

Rebecca heard the men. Heard them breathing, whispering, soon shouting after her even though she was all alone. The camp that had only been near was abandoned by now.

In tunnel vision, she didn't realize that she had already left the forest, now only running past a few scattered trees. But she felt how it hurt to run again, and only when she reached the end of the rocks, which the grass ground had turned into, she sank to her knees. The awareness of her paranoid stupidity would make her ashamed in any other situation. 

But not now. She tried to calm down, breathing heavily. Once she looked down she saw Aibne, his skin blue not only because of the moonlight. With some weird motion, she spread her legs, her feet coming up from inter her skirts.

"My shoe is missing." She stated to herself almost laughing. 

Indeed it was missing. That caused the stockings of the left foot were not only dirty but also quite bloody. But there was not a part of her that wasn't injured in any way.

So Rebecca put off the other shoe as well. 

Back at the ground, she came to the same conclusion as earlier: there was no point in getting up.  
But neither was in staying down. The ground was cold. So was the air. No one would care whether she'd starve or freeze right here or not. No one except her herself. Because the cold made her uncomfortable, shaking as it only was the beginning of spring.

Rebecca was alive. For her own sake, she had to live even without a plan or a direction to go.

That night she buried Aibne near the rocks. Behind them the strong floating river but it wasn't the end. On the other side of the banks were other rocks and cliffs, on going forests. 

Two weeks passed. Spring came over the land. The animals were waking up, gladly coming out of their winter shelters and so did the humans.

Not too far away from point six cabin, there was a small livestock town named Valentine. The town's name was actually the only romantic or even pretty thing about it. Mostly the fresh spring air was not as fresh as it should be there since... well, it was a livestock town. Everything smelled like sheep shit.

Rebecca had kind of collected herself - had stolen some undergarments that were not bloody as a butcher's pinafore and had even started some business of her own.

It had started the way she had survived the four years with Kieran before they got to the gang, meaning she provided to work as whatever the people would require for half a dollar.

It had started the way she had survived the four years with Kieran before they got to the gang, meaning she provided to work as whatever the people would require for half a dollar.

Soon she had come to the realization that without a husband with her they thought that Rebecca was a very cheap whore. Which she definitely wasn't.   
At first.

After being unable to afford food for two days she decided that lending a helping hand was less bad than starving. For she was way too blunder to steal out of a shop and without a gun there was no point in hunting.

It wasn't too bad after all. - Not meaning that she wasn't grossed out by what she did, but more of an indispensable neutralness to it. Her body wasn't hers no more, so why wouldn't she sell it? 

Rebecca was roaming the town in a shell that looked like her body but certainly didn't feel like it. There was a boundary between her and it. The woman was sure that she lost her body somewhere in the river. It had been washed far away.

Sometimes she did get proper work such as carrying something, cleaning, or escorting some drunk fella home. Well, not this day. Rebecca went out of a back lane, back onto the main street. Actually, the main street was almost the whole town. There were the only two shops of Valentine, the saloon, a doctor, a hotel and the sheriff's office. And a stable of course. 

She carried a bottle of whiskey with her which by now was quite empty as she used it as a mouthwash to get rid of the taste that forced her to vomit. Taking the last sip she abandoned the bottle at the border of a porch. Very lady-like spitting out the whiskey and with that the day. Because the day was finally ending.

The sun sat so she crossed the street, almost getting run over by some stagecoach. There Rebecca entered a store that sold both food and clothing as Valentine did lack on a tailor. She came here every second day so the cashier greeted her friendly.

"Evening Miss. How was your day?"

She took a quick look around the store. Certainly, she was the only customer at the moment. 

"Not too good. Made two dollars." So she grabbed a can of kidney beans and Kentucky Bourbon. 

The cashier shrugged. "You know, you can have a bread form this morning if you join me behind the counter."

"Really?" 

"Sure. Tomorrow it'll be too dry to be sold. "

She took the offer gladly and put her groceries on the side of the counter before going behind it and on her knees.

A few minutes passed and he held on to the counter when suddenly the door opened and a new customer entered. The cashier kind of gently pushed her away with his leg. Rebecca pressed her back against the counter, trying to be quiet as possible.

"Hello, sir. How can I help you?" The cashier asked with a raspy voice. "Oh- You-"

The boots of the customer were heavy and he walked slow. She saw how the cashier's hand went under the counter, searching for something which wasn't there. Probably a gun.  
"Oh, I see you remember me. Wasn't very pleased about you telling the sheriff what you think I did." A male voice. 

"I am-"

"Shut up. You caused me a lot of trouble. Raised my bounty." His voice got closer and she was sure he stood right at the counter. "How about you hand me some munition? Standard one's for revolvers." 

The cashier leaned slightly down, reaching for a handy packet of bullets.

The customer opened it immediately. Rebecca could hear some clicking sounds. He was loading a gun.

"Please don't - I have child-" A single shot, incredibly loud as it was so close. The cashier fell back and collapsed on the floor which soon was covered by gallons of blood. His face was completely demolished.

Rebecca clapped her hands in front of her mouth but screamed into them anyway.

"What was that?" The man jumped over the counter. His boots made the blood splatter as he landed in it. "A little lass. I see." 

Slowly she looked up at him in terror and even though she looked directly into his face she couldn't tell how he looked. 

"See what I do with people that run to the sheriff? I'm sure you'll be quieter than this fella. Am I right, lass?" 

She nodded frantically. 

"Then leave now. Take the back door." He opened the cash box and minded his own business.

She grabbed the counter and pulled herself up. Unsteadily she made her way to the backdoor and once she reached it she started to run along the backyards, out of town. The wind later on making her realize that not only the blood ruined this skirt but that she had pissed herself as well.

When the sun rose Rebecca sat at the banks of the river. Same river as the weeks before, just further south. The fire she had made had almost died but it was enough for now. It had kept her warm at night and dried the clothes that she had washed. 

Not for a second she thought about how she sat there in her undergarments in public as she didn't care. No one went here and she had too little dignity left. What she actually was thinking about was whether she should return to Valentine or not. 

The memories of the day before held her back but she was hungry. It was not like she hadn't tried to get food in the scrubland but there simply was none at this time of year. Well, at least none she would recognize. The trees just started to bloom. Mushrooms grew here and there but Rebecca didn't know those well enough to be sure about their state of poison. Nettles had been her dinner yesterday. Not enough to fill her stomach. 

All in all, she didn't have a choice. She had to go back. Thinking about it - it would be very suspicious of her to not go back to town while the investigation would run and the man surely was smart enough to leave.

Once she'd get an opportunity she would leave as well. And opportunities came with money. Money came through work so she went back to Valentine and worked until afternoon when out of nowhere a deputy stopped her when she crossed the street.

"Miss, may I talk to you for a second?" He stopped her and lead her to the side of the street before she answered. Because of that her "Sure" was quite pissed.

"As you may have heard the shop owner Thomas Langford has been killed yesterday. Some people said that they have seen you entering the shop just before a shot fell."

Rebecca looked up at him in surprise. "That so? When did said shot fall?"

"Around quarter past seven."

She straightened her skirt. "Well too bad that I'm the owner of a clock. Neither of a gun."

His face stayed serious. "Do you have someone who can confirm that you haven't been to the shop?"

"You live in a town full of angry drunken cowpokes. Still you, my good sir, ask a young lady whether she committed the greatest sin?"

Then he couldn't stay serious no more. Chuckling he looked down at her. "Well, a whore as you are sure doesn't fear committing sins." 

He let her leave, being too amused by her to accuse her any further. Of course, she was glad about that as she had no one to defend her - if she'd even get dragged to court. 

Little later she realized that lawmen waited behind every corner. Money and food seemed to get unimportant as she passed the saloon. In front of that stood three men, one being asked about the incident and not only did she feel his glare - he pointed straight at her. Heart beating fast she acted as if she didn't notice and continued walking.   
When had she turned into public enemy number one?  
The woman headed for the train station so she went down the road. A look over her shoulder confirmed that she actually wasn't followed. 

More lawmen basically surrounded the station - not that she'd have the money for a ticket. Anyway, walking seemed to be a great idea. Passing the station further down the road soon lead her out of the town. No more buildings stood at the sides of the road which lead to where ever. 

Certainly where ever was east. At least a direction.  
For three days Rebecca had been walking along the road before she got picked up by a man with a stagecoach. His name was Malcolm, he was old enough to be her grandfather and smelled like a drunken sailor. Turned out he owned the gun store in Valentine and delivered gunpowder to the gun store in Rhodes which was owned by his nephew.

Rebecca sat beside him and quietly drank the water he had given her. As Valentine had been pretty green and all she hadn't expected half a desert behind the next mountains. Alright, maybe not half a desert. There were bushes and all but it was drier.

"You're kinda light headed, Missy." He said.

"Am I?"

Malcolm laughed dryly. "Leaving town all alone, having no money, jumping on the coach of the next fella that crosses your way. Are you stupid or something?" 

"Most likely." Luckily upon her way had been various streams, berry bushes and herbs that had prevented her from starving.

"So did you kill Tommy?"

"What? Who's Tommy?"

"The owner of the general store."

Rebecca quickly checked whether he was carrying a knife or something with him. He had a pistol and he carried a shotgun to his feet but he simply looked at the road and drove.

"Which store?"

"You know which. Valentine is a small town. Everyone knows your face and what your services are."

"Excuse me?"

"Stop playing innocent. I don't care. It just seems a little strange that suddenly you leave. And you obviously hadn't planned it."

"If you don't care why do you ask?"

"I don't care what you are or what you did but I do care about who I sit next to."

This made no sense to her. "I didn't kill no one. I just wanted to leave." Malcolm wasn't convinced. A single look at him could tell. But that didn't matter. He still took her with him - even let her grab a snack from his pocket as he heard how her stomach growled. And they didn't talk much further. A fact she was glad about. 

As they entered the state of Lemoyne their surroundings changed into sated grasslands again featuring small forests here and there. A very beautiful place.   
Rhodes itself was a little dusty as the hot wind swirled up the red sand from the road. The town seemed less hectic and dirty than Valentine's.  
The houses were colorful and neat, so the clothes of the fine people who walked along the street. 

Malcolm stopped the coach beside the gun store and gave her a dollar for that she unloaded it.

He went onto the porch of the store was another man already sat. Malcolm greeted "Samuel" with a hug and they drank while Rebecca carried the boxes into the store. A young lad helped her. 

Said lad was an employee of the store and while the elder men outside drank and talked they finished up the work - then Rebecca finished him up for what he gave her five fucking dollars and he didn't notice that she pick-pocket him while that. Another three dollars.

If everyone in this town was so pathetically unaware she'd get rich in no time.

So she told Malcolm, who said he'd take her back to Valentine, that she'd stay here. At least for now. She hadn't planned to go back anyway. 

Four days in Rebecca had some kind of routine. At day she'd sleep in an abandoned cabin near town and at night she'd roam around a small park in front of the station. Working well. Mostly they did pay good and the men were much more hygienic than those in Valentine. Actually, Rebecca felt even more disgusting through that. She was not only doing a filthy job, but she was also the filthiest around. The only thing filthier than her was the mattress in the cabin. It smelled like someone had died on it - but it was the first mattress she slept on in thirteen months.

It was this very mattress she sat on when she counted the money she had made and putting aside what she would need for food and such, she realized that she had enough money for paper, pen and letter tax.   
So she went to town at noon and bought those things. 

Sitting on the stairs of the station she wrote a letter. Probably hard to read as she wrote it on the ground, quick and all nervous. 

Once she sent the letter at the station everything seemed to be unimportant. In a good way. It didn't matter what happened today. Neither yesterday.   
Her relief was so great, she smiled when she returned to the cabin.

There she opened the door and crossed the short hallway to the kitchen where she froze.

Some women were standing in the kitchen. Their clothes very revealing, guns in their hands.   
And they had expected her because as she turned around there stood women too.   
She swallowed hard. "H-Hello... are you... what doing here?" Looking straight into the barrel of a rifle she seemed to lose the ability to talk.

"Honey, we've been looking for you all over town." Some lady behind her said. The cold feeling of metal came onto her skin. A gun was held against her neck as well. "You know - you are selling yourself quite cheap. In our town."

Rebecca raised her hands slowly. "I - sorry - did not - I don't want any trouble!"

"Little late for that, don't you think?"  
The women with the rifle spoke up. "I don't think you understand. We all had to lower our prices to even get a few customers in the last days. You will stop working here."

Rebecca nodded. "Yes - Yes I will - I swear" one of the guns behind her was getting unlocked. "D-do you want money? I got some on the bed - I - It isn't much but -"

"Alright, ladies. I think she understood. Get her outta here." The guns were lowered, the front door held open and Rebecca literally kicked out of her own hiding place.

She didn't turn around, walked straight and stiff towards the deeper woods when a shot was settled right between her feet. Of course, she started running then.

Because that was what she did. Never anything else. She'd run somewhere, trying to work as anything and it'd turn to shit before she knew it. Right now she seemed to be destined to be stuck in a pile of shit. Just having runoff from one town - it would be the same all over again in the next.  
No, for now she wanted to stay in Rhodes. A town full of idiots and opportunities - for her to get better.

These whores wanted her to stop being a whore. They wanted the same as her. So she'd stop. Actually, in Rhodes she hadn't even tried anything different. Maybe she could help in a store or wash someone's laundry. It was time to reach for the stars instead of running away like the little bitch she was. 

After all, this was a new town far away from the O'Driscolls.

She had tried every house, even if it wasn't a business. Not a single household, a store, not even the undertaker would take her. Mostly because men recognized her or their women did - gossip was usual in such towns. But she had not yet given up. 

At the very end of the town stood a huge house, fancy decorated with flowers and plants, the walls painted green. The saloon of Rhodes. The most elegant one she had ever seen and she came from New York City. 

She wiped over her skirt, took a deep breath, and made her way in. 

Inside it wasn't less fancy. Everything crested tables out of the finest wood and wide stairs that lead in a circle into the second floor. As it was just before noon there were almost no customers and a young lady that cleaned the floor - a highly pregnant lady. 

Rebecca passed her and went up to the bar, where the bartender was polishing glasses. "Miss, we are currently having a break."

"I am not here to take a drink." She said steadily trying to be confident. "Are you in need of some assistance?"

He put the glass down and looked at her instead. Kind of scanning her. "Assistance as in...?"

"As in a waitress. Yours seems to be kind of indisputable. Or a cook. Any job you'd have to offer. My name's Rebecca Fadeth. I'm an all-rounder."

He chuckled. "An all-rounder. Interesting. Fred com'ere for a second."

Little later some ginger lad came from the back.   
The bartender pointed at Rebecca. "What do you think?" Instead of answering the ginger shrugged and returned to where he came from. "So how old are you?"

"22 years, sir."

"Married?"

"No."

"Got children?"

"Neither."

He smiled. "Very well. I won't pay, instead, you'll get a room and food. And working dresses of course. We've got standards."

Her voice pitched up excitedly. "Does that mean I've got the job, sir?"

"Depends on how you'll do tonight. And it's Jonathan Gray."

"Thank you! You won't regret it!" 

"I know. Now go upstairs, there is a bathtub. Get washed - as I said we've got standards. Maggie, will you get something suitable for Miss Rebecca?" The last part was to the pregnant woman. She stood up immediately and disappeared where Fred earlier had. "Now go. She'll bring it to you soon."

Rebecca took the skirt in her hands and quickly went up the stairs. The next floor was like a balcony around the room. One could look down at the bar and the tables until it led to a half-round shaped poker table. Behind the table were wide windows and a glass door that revealed a terrace. Aside from the table was a door where a sign said that... Well, this was the bathroom. How very modern.

The bathtub was already filled with water. When she dipped her fingers in she found the water was quite warm due to the distance between the bathtub and the lit fireplace.

Not waiting much longer she took her clothes off and got into the tub. At first, she felt relieved and closed her eyes, dipped under the surface completely.  
But time passed and after about twenty minutes, when she had rubbed off the dirt she found herself lying in her own filth. All that had been on her, the water was brown and red and unclear, hay and grass swam at the surface. 

Disgusted she stood up and took the last bucket with clean water, pouring it over her head. When she stepped out of the tub, onto the wooden floor she felt a little chill despite the heat of the fire, so she dried herself quickly.

Just then someone knocked on the dor. "I have clothes for you. May I come in?" A soft female voice. Probably Maggie.

"Of course."

Maggie didn't only bring clothes. She made Rebecca sit down on a stool, cut her hair, her nails, removed hair from her eyebrows, then quicker than Rebecca knew she removed her towel to put undergarments on her including a corset, followed by a skirt, a louse and another skirt. Of course, Rebecca actually was able to get dressed by herself but she was kind of overwhelmed by the quick and direct actions of Maggie. 

"Oh, I can't let any customer use that water... you go downstairs, I will take care of that.", she said and took the bucket to get the filth water out of the tub.

"Are you sure? I can help you with that." Rebecca looked at her belly with worry. 

"Nah, it's fine. Go downstairs."

So she went. Down the stairs waited Jonathan for her. He showed her everything; the kitchen, the guest rooms and where everything went. Also their rooms – she would share one with Maggie in the basement. 

With the coming evening, her first night at work began. She was quite excited. For the first hours, she helped in the kitchen, mostly doing the dishes or cooking something, but once the men got tipsy and drunk Jonathan made her go into the front of the saloon as a waitress. 

As soon as she had to lean over the tables she noticed that her dress was indeed somewhat revealing. A circumstance she was unaware of before, but the customers seemed to like it – they gave her generous tips. Not that she'd see much of that money later on. 

When she leaned over a table to reach an empty bottle a man smacked her ass, making her yelp in surprise. "Are ye gonna suck my plonker after your shift?"

With a nervous smile, she took the bottle and quickly returned to the kitchen. 

More guests came and now all three of them were out in the saloon. It was quite difficult to balance a tray full of glasses in each hand, maneuvering through all the loaded people shouting, laughing, and drinking, but she managed it somehow safe to the kitchen. Once she returned with a single tray with full glasses of Whiskey and a few bottles Jonathan called her up to the bar. 

"Fred will take care of your tables for now.  
You're doing good. Go and help a guest in room two. He required help."

With a quick nod, she left the tray on the bar and went to the back of the saloon. A hallway with three rooms was there. Once again swiping over her skirts she knocked on the door of room number two. "Excuse me, sir, you called for assistance?"

He opened the door and let her in. It was sure that he was not sober at all. He stood very unsteady, leaned against the door when it fell into the lock.

"So, how may I help you?", she asked and felt trapped. 

With a wide smirk, he started to unbutton his trousers.

Her heart sunk down her skirt when she realized that. "Excuse me, I think you misunderstand something - let me out of the room."

He didn't. Instead, he walked towards her, making her go backward until she reached the bed. Then he quickly gripped her throat and pushed her down onto the mattress, his body weight keeping her from shifting into freedom. "Please – let me go!", she squeaked, soon cried, but he wouldn't. The man seemed to enjoy her crying and begging, ended his game by hitting her head so hard, she passed out.

Something cold and wet touched her forehead. A cloth. 

When she opened her eyes she gazed into the familiar face of her husband. Gently he dipped the cloth over all the wound parts on her face and neck. 

"You're awake.", he noticed with his stupid sheepish smile. A smile that would make everyone think that he was a very simple-minded man, but he was smart his own way. "You don't have to be afraid anymore. I'm there now."

She tilted her head. "Kieran... how did you find me?" He kept on smiling. She sat up, slowly starting to remember everything, to remember why she had been afraid.

"You are safe now. You'll stay here." He placed his large hands on her shoulders and pushed her back down. "You won't leave. You will stay here." Then he started to strangle her and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't move. Then it wasn't him anymore, who strangled her. Instead, it was the man from last night, then Malcolm, then her father, the robber from Valentine, and in the end, Colm O'Driscoll who made it end made her vision fade.

"Hey, calm down, you're alright.", Maggie whispered when Rebecca woke up. She was in the spot Kieran had been at the beginning of her dream. Rebeca froze for a moment and then realized that she was indeed alright. 

"This man – what – have you called the sheriff?"

Maggie bit her lips and removed the cloth from Rebeccas face. They were in their room in the basement. The pregnant woman leaned over to her nightstand and got something out of the drawer. A bottle filled with a liquid.

"What's that?"

"A mixture with belladonna."

With that, she didn't have to explain any further. Rebecca knew why she had to take a spoon of that poison. It was to make sure she wouldn't end up like Maggie. And the Sheriff wouldn't be called. This man hadn't been a rapist, he was a customer. And she was no waitress, well maybe she was, but at the same time, she still was a whore. 

Rebecca turned her head towards the door, but Maggie held her back. "It's locked up. We can go out in the morning. And if we try to leave the Saloon we will be followed by Fred.

With the morning the door got unlocked. Both of the girls got dressed before they went upstairs. Maggie immediately went to the kitchen, while Rebecca got called by Jonathan.

"Aye, lass. You did good yesterday. Hadn't had any customer that pleased in quite a while.", he chuckled.

She stared at him speechless.

"Oh c'mon. It's not like you haven't been a whore before. Now go to the general store. I ordered something."

Fred came from the back of the saloon and escorted her outside. Before she could even lose a thought on running he took her arm as if they were on a nice Sunday walk – with a grip so firm a horse couldn't get rid of it.

In the general store, they picked up two boxes of soap. Since those were already paid they left without hesitation. Walking up the street again, now each of them carrying a box she looked up at him. He wasn't less terrified. His gaze was skipping along the people passing them. 

"You are afraid.", she stated. "Please, let me go. I will run to the sheriff and get you out of this! I swear!"

But he didn't look back at her. He shifted the box in his arms so that he could carry it with one hand. The other one went behind her back and gently pushed her forward towards the saloon. "Fred, please, I promise!" 

Inside Maggie was once again cleaning the floor. She kneeled on the ground and rubbed along the wooden floorboards. Jonathan was at the bar counting something. "You can put the boxes into the back. Freddie, prepare the bathtub. The train arrives in half an hour."

After that Rebecca got sent into the kitchen to cook. Right now she peeled potatoes. Sitting there on the stool she suddenly heard a loud noise from the saloon. Things crashing to the ground.  
"You clumsy brat! Be more careful or imma make sure you'll raise that bastard on the streets of Van Horn!"

"I am – I am so sorry, I -"

A clap.

"Clean that up before anyone comes in here." 

He obviously had slapped her. Rebecca's grip around the knife tightened, but she didn't dare to do a thing aside keeping on the peeling.

The train brought many hungry and tired people as well as those who required a bath. Rebecca took care of the bathing part as most people didn't enjoy getting washed by a pregnant woman. Still, after five costumers Jonathan made Maggie do this deed instead of Rebecca. 

He reminded her: "Those are lonely men. Far away from their wives. They don't want to pay for a woman that looks like her dog got shot. Be kind, smile, and ask how they are, dammit! Now go back to the kitchen."

Around the same time as yesterday, she changed places with Fred. Jonathan sent her out with the demand to open her blouse further. He didn't care about people seeing the bruises on her throat – they would look a little further down anyways.

It was exactly like the day before. For hours she waited, got told funny to nasty things, and then and now touched until at some point Jonathan made her go help customers in the guest rooms. When she started to cry bitterly a the third men he got even more excited.

She had believed lending a helping hand in Valentine was bad, maybe it was but this here was hell. It was disgusting. Everything and everyone including herself. She should have stayed in Valentine. Being hung for a murder she didn't commit was better than living in this place.

After the shift was over she and Maggie got locked in the basement again. They barely spoke. In silence just getting undressed and washing the filth and touch of the strange men off them, then going to bed. 

Rebecca stared at the ceiling and wondered how everything turned so terribly wrong in such a short amount of time.

"Becky, come here! Quick!", Maggie said.

Confused and yet curious she got up and went over to the other women's bed. There Maggie took her hand and made her touch her belly. Both women started smiling. "Can you feel it?"

She nodded. The baby was kicking. 

With that, she was reminded of what she had lost. Tears came up and she tried to hold them back but once Maggie laid an arm around her for comfort she fell apart.

The women held each other until it was way too late.

Two days later Rebecca knocked on the door of the bathroom. "May I assist you?"

"Sure. Come in."

She entered the bath with a fake smile. The air was heavy and hot due to the steam, but once she sat beside the man in the bathtub she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Malcolm?"

He had closed his eyes and laid his head back - a state that changed once he heard her voice. "Rebecca. What a pleasant surprise. I see you are having a real job now!", he said happily.

She just nodded, not wanting to destroy his illusion because if he'd known, he wouldn't look at her like that. Taking a cloth and soap from the tray on the tub she started to rub along his shoulders and nape. "Yes. I also live here. I'm sharing a room with a sweet girl. What about you?"

"My nephew needed more cartridge cases. He thinks that it is cheaper to make ammunition yourself than buying from the factories. Well, none of my customers ever lost a hand due to an exploding gun."

She chuckled even tho she didn't find this funny at all.

"Anyway, I am glad to be out of Valentine for a few days. There was a huge shoot-out. Thought we were at war or something."

"Really?" Now she rubbed his back as he leaned forward. "What happened?"

"It seems like some gang was there. Some Fancy men came to get them. No O'Driscolls tho, I think those were Van der Lindes."

"V-van der Lindes?"

"Yea. Great. I bet after them we'll get some punks like the Mac'nThoshs or Mulligans. Those gangs follow each other like damn sheep – just that those aren't sheep, you know? They are god damn rats!"

In the end she washed his grey hair. He sighed. "I wish my Lissa would still wash me like that. Many years ago she'd do it each week, but these days... well, I understand her. I ain't what I used to be and neither does she. Her titts sweep the floor." He laughed. "Still, I love her." 

Rebecca was glad that soon after that he left and didn't take any note of her disappearing in the guest rooms.

A week passed in which each day was pretty much the same. This day was going to be different, though. Rebecca had noticed that Maggie needed more and more breaks and this morning it was happening. Maggie was running up and down the room, breathing heavily. 

"I am having contractions... it's too early."

Rebecca jumped out of her bed. "Then lay down" Relax!"

"No, no, this will take some time... It will probably take another day to arrive." She laughed bitterly. "Fuck..."  
She put a hand on the back of Maggi.

"Becky, go back to sleep. I'll wake you up.... when I need you."

So she went back to bed, even though there was no way she could close an eye. She was way too excited.

All-day long Fred and Rebecca had waited for a delivery of Whiskey, which in the end didn't arrive. That wasn't a big surprise as the number of ambushes on wagons had increased lately. 

Then later that day she just faded out the sweaty guy who was hanging over her. Rebecca looked at the wooden ceiling. A very woody wooden ceiling. A shard slap brought her back to reality. 

"Fuck – when I pay – for you – at least – take – fucking note of me – bitch!"

Indeed, that's exactly what she was. A bitch. Still, she had to suppress gagging as he doubled over and gave her his charge.

Not much time passed until she went back to wait on the tables. Since the whiskey hadn't arrived they had gotten some moonshine from wherever, which seemed to be a little too strong for most of the guests. They barely could order something as their words got way too messed up.

"Becky" Jonathan Gray called her to the counter. She gave him the order for table twelve briefly, then thought she would have to go back to a room, but she was wrong. "Go to the basement. The child is coming and there is no midwife far and wide. At least not one that I would pay for."  
Joyful panic seized her as she hurriedly set off. 

Fred, however, only got more and sweating because he now had to take care of everything on his own.

There were many candles in the chamber. Maggie knelt on the floor to cool off, moaning in pain. Rebecca reached under her arms and brought her to the bed. "Lie or sit down, whichever you prefer, but do it on the bed."

Maggie just nodded and lay on her back.

"How - how far is it?", Rebecca asked on patted her head helplessly.

"How should I know?" Asked the woman who gave birth "Check it out!"

Rebecca took a seat at the foot end, Maggie sprayed her legs. "Oh-"

In worry, Maggie's eyes widen. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, all is well. It's just about time. Keep going. Pushing and breathing, yes?"

"I don't have any other option! Have you done this before?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Not in the slightest. But we're gonna make it. There's always a first time."

"I hate you so much!" Maggie shouted at the next contraction.

"Great! Yes - I think that's the head! The worst part's over soon!"

And this scream was heard through the drunken hoot in the saloon.

Everything was covered in blood, Maggie sagged exhausted. Rebecca cut the umbilical cord with scissors, knotting it was harder than expected because it was all slippery and bloody and tiny, but that was it. The little bairn had arrived. Proudly she handed Maggie the crying girl, which soon got quiet in her mother's arms.

Before heading back upstairs Rebecca got changed because she looked like a butcher, once again. The remaining night went over fast. In the dawn, Freddie threw the last drunken fellas out. 

Surprisingly, Maggie came up from the basement for breakfast. Freddie immediately got up and helped her get to a chair.

"What are you doing here? We'd have brought you something down in a minute," said Rebecca.

Maggie was pale. She had drizzled the floor with blood. "I'm fine. I had to get out of this basement." Fred got bread, eggs and water from the kitchen and served it to her.

"How's the little one doing?"

"Good. She's sleeping. Was hungry like a wolf." Maggie laughed.

Jonathan Gray arrived before noon after lying down for a few hours. Today he had very special tasks. Fred was supposed to replace the sheets in the rooms (because the beds were not actually freshly made after every guest) and Rebecca was supposed to scrub the tub.

To do this, she carried the tub to the back yard. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, there were only a few clouds in the sky. She whistled in a good mood and scrubbed out the solidified dirt. It wasn't that much, otherwise, no one would come to bathe. She was extremely surprised when Fred joined her and spoke to her for the first time.

His voice was slightly too high for his size, probably because he spoke so little. "He lets Magnolia work."

Either because she was confused about his voice or because of "Magnolia" she didn't understand what he meant.

"Maggie. He lets Maggie work. She wipes the blood she left on the floor."

Then it clicked. "Wait, she's crawling around on the floor so soon after giving birth?"

Fred leaned over to her and became even quieter than he already was. "He hit her. He hates her. He always has."

"God, why doesn't he let her go then?"

Fred gazed over his shoulders. "Please do something."

She looked away from him, towards the tub. "I can't do anything. If I tell him to leave her alone, it doesn't change anything."

He shook his head. "Today after the shift. We're leaving." He put the potato knife into her skirt pocket. "I'll open your door. He counts the money before he leaves. You have to kill him."

"Why me? I can't kill anyone." She didn't take him seriously, probably out of panic. Fred started to scare her.

"You're not strong enough to carry Magnolia. I'll get her out. We'll meet at the train station."

"Wait ... really?"

"When I open the door." Fred got up and went back to the saloon.

Rebecca was more than terrified. He really seemed to mean it. She hated Jonathan Gray, but she couldn't ... No matter what he did, she was unable to kill anyone. Fred was insane. There was no way this plan would work – even if she... did what he asked her to.

When the first guests arrived, Rebecca tried to concentrate on serving them, but every time her and Fred's eyes crossed, he had this piercing, knowing gaze. Somehow threatening. When he started to grin slightly, Rebecca dropped the tray. Clinking, five glasses fell to the floor and shattered. Three of them were filled.

"What's that about, Becky? I'll deduct that from your wages!" What wages?

With shaky hands, she picked up the pieces and collected them in her apron. Fred came to her aid with a rag. "Your fingers are cut open. Go to the kitchen, I'll do this. And behave normally. He suspects something."

The guests who had seen the splinter spectacle laughed, then continued to drink. Someone smacked her ass as he passed, but she was used to it and ignored it.

In the kitchen, Maggie stood in front of a cauldron of stew. Heavily sweating because of the heat. Rebecca took bandages out of the medicine cabinet and wrapped them around her fingers after washing off the blood.

"Maggie, don't overdo it."

"I am fine."

And with a new tray full of whiskey, she plunged into the fray again.

After the shift, Rebecca was sitting on her bed. Again and again, she reached into her skirt pocket for the knife. She was restless.

Maggie nursed her girl. "Do you want to tell me something, Becky?"

"Tell you something? W-what?" She asked nervously.

"Anything. You said you lived with your grandfather for two years. Tell me about it. I want to hear something." Maggie handed the girl to her, only to lie down more comfortably and close her eyes.

"Um ... well. My grandfather James lived in up the mountains and I lived there for a while."

"From the beginning, you peat nose."

"So ... my grandfather lost his sight in war. He and his wife moved away from us. He wanted to go into the mountains. Not those here, we lived in a northern state. After my grandmother died, my parents sent my big sister Annabeth up to him, a snap idea. She has always been a little sick. Then in the mountains, she got pneumonia. So they sent me afterward to check on her.

Annabeth died shortly afterward. So I had to stay with my grandfather until he died two years later. He was ... quite a strange man. Lovely, though."

"Strange?"

"He talked to himself. Most of the time he wasn't aware that I was there. He also always walked the same round through the woods and picked berries for his chickens."

Maggie stopped responding. She was asleep.

Only now Rebecca noticed what a quiet child it was. Usually, they screamed all the time. Well, better that way.

When Fred opened the door it was morning. "I was scared. I couldn't - wait, what stinks here?"

Rebecca had fallen asleep. As soon as she woke up she noticed it too. "God ... that smells like a ... corpse ..." 

Fred and she exchanged looks, then he hurried to Maggie's bed. Rebecca didn't dare to ask, she already knew the answer when he got up again, and just stared at Maggie.

The same day they buried Maggie in Rhodes' cemetery. No one but a priest and the three were there. Did she even have a family?

"I'm writing a letter to the orphanage in Van Horn. Hopefully, somebody will come by the end of the week" Jonathan muttered. "And I need a new employee too."

He left before Maggie's body was in the ground.

Fred shook. "I should have ... done something earlier."

Rebecca said nothing because that's exactly what he should have. She also. Maybe she would still be alive, no, surely she would still be alive if she left earlier. Maggie could have gotten some rest then. And with rest, she would have been well.

Her grief was not particularly great. Maggie had been a nice girl to like, but she hadn't known her for three weeks.

Fred, on the other hand, looked terrible. He didn't cry, he just seemed like a fallen over the house of cards. Limp. Guilty.

Rebecca took his arm and gently pulled him out of the cemetery. "We have to work. She'll find peace. Nobody hurts her anymore." And he let her pull him along.

Everything seemed numb at work. The guests less loud, everything slow and deaf. The men she washed were faceless. Just like those she served.

Again and again, she went from a table to the kitchen and back again, again and again, the guests complained. She handed out the wrong things.

Not long before Jonathan pulled her into the hallway. "Lass, what's wrong with you? Fred is already useless, now don't you let me down too."

"I am sorry."

"Whatever. Now go to room two. Hopp Hopp."

She came out with frizzy hair and a sweaty face. Briefly, she made a detour to the kitchen and washed her face.

Everything stuck to her. She was dirty. Quickly she straightened her hair and continued to serve.  
She had no idea where Fred was. He had to stray around somewhere and also serve. Or he was outside, just taking a break. It didn't matter.

The saloon became more manageable as many people left. The clock over the counter showed it was quarter to four. With that fatigue overwhelmed her like a wave.

Lazily she collected glasses here and there, until she saw that some new costumers had taken place at a table. Four men, all very merry already. So once Rebecca had brought the glasses away, she walked up to their table, ready to serve. "Evening boys. May I get you something?"

"Whiskey. And is it true that I can get it at a good price?" The guy who asked wiggled with his eyebrows.

"You have to talk to the man at the -"

Another man from the table got up abruptly. "Becky?"

She recognized him immediately and the wave of tiredness was replaced by shame and nakedness. Just by looking at him, she felt ten times more hideous.

"Kieran?"

"You know each other?" wondered the guy who had just asked about her purchaseability.

Kieran blinked in confusion. "Y-yes ... that's my wife."

"You have a wife? That is a whore? It's getting better and better with this O'Driscoll boy."

Kieran hit him on the back of the head. "She's not a whore."

Rebecca didn't know what to do or say. Pretty much like a deer, she stood there, not making a single movement and just looking at the men. Once she found her spirit again she turned and went to the kitchen to get the whiskey they ordered. Rather hide, actually. When Fred came into the kitchen, she begged him to take over the remaining four tables, which he did.

She stayed in the kitchen until the end of her shift. Today had definitely been too much. When Jonathan asked she used the excuse that she would do the dishes. That kept her busy till the end of her shift and with that till dawn.

When she finally dared to leave the kitchen, she was sent out to empty the sink. Said bowl was quite heavy and the filthy. Water kept spilling over the edge, bringing her out of balance. As soon as she reached the veranda, she tipped out the bowl. The nights were still fresh, but this contrast to the hot, stuffy saloon was damn good for her. She leaned against the porch railing for a moment to take a breath.

"Rebecca? What are you doing here?" Asked Kieran, who had apparently been waiting outside. He was standing at the horse though a few yards away. His buddies weren't far either.

"Well, I am working. Why are you still here? You and your friends certainly haven't rented a room. I'd know that."

He sighed. "Please come down. I need to talk to you."

Slowly and thoughtfully, she straightened up, finally gave in and approached him. There had been so much she wanted to say - or yell - in the past few weeks - but now she didn't have any words left.

"God, I've missed you so much!" He said, pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head. "I wanted to get you as soon as it was safe. As soon as they'd trust me."

Then she pushed him away. "You miserable little bastard just left me behind! I thought you were dead!"

"But I live!"

"Oh believe me I know. Colm O'Driscoll made sure I'd know that."

"It's better that way. You wanted to leave the O'Driscolls anyway."

She stared up at him in disbelieve. "Better this way?" Better this way. Better than her child was dead? That she had to prostitute herself? Rebecca slapped him in the face, then in the chest until he grabbed her and tried to calm her down.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you didn't want to stay with the gang? You didn't like them. Neither did I."

"But I wanted our child, you filthy son of a bitch!"

"What?"

"He killed it. You killed it." Her voice broke off. Again he tried to hug her. "Kieran - don't touch me. You fraternized with them." She gestured over to his friends, that were messing around at the road like a pack of drunken fools. Well, they were exactly that.

"What should I have done? They captured me. They wanted to torture me. Besides, they're not that bad. Come with me. You'll see, everything will be fine."

She looked to the few people waiting alongside horses.

"I also forgive you for selling yourself," he added.

And it was over. She waved her arms and freed herself from his grip. "You fucking piece of shit!"

The saloon door opened. "Becky, are you all right? You should come in." Fred called.

Kieran wanted to stop her. "Rebecca, wait it wasn't meant that way! Be angry, but please come with me."

"I'd rather suck the dicks of some fat old sacks for the rest of my days, Kieran Duffy." And with that, she took her skirt in her hands and ran back into the saloon.

Fred had taken the child for now. It screamed all the time, of course. It was hungry and missed its mother. How should you take care of it? Rebecca couldn't breastfeed it. Was there a wet nurse in Rhodes?

Anyway. The chamber still stank, despite being ventilated all day. Maybe she just imagined it.  
In half-sleep, she was no longer sure what had really happened today and what hadn't. Everything somehow became blurred and just seemed like a distant dream. A bad dream. Because Maggie wasn't dead. She was sitting on the porch with her daughter. And on the day she would find her way back to Kieran, everything would be fine again as if nothing had ever happened. His presence would make all the disgusting and bad go away like the warmth of spring melted snow, leaving nothing behind.

And for now, she closed her eyes and sank deep into a better dream. A dream in which neither she nor anyone else existed. A warm, realistic dream.

Mary. The new employee was a Mary. A fairly young and yet not innocent Mary. This Mary was like an open book. She wiped the tables and you could see what her father had done to her by the way she gazed at men. It was so easy to read in her young eyes. Watery, big eyes that had cried a lot and had no idea what was going to happen to her, because despite her suffering she was naive due to her youth.

Shame about her. Rebecca thought as she filled the bowls on the tables and counters with almonds. But broken glass could no longer be made a whole. So better she than someone who was really innocent.

Rebecca had a warm feeling that she didn't have to go into the rooms often today because Mary's cute face was framed by blonde curls. She was no older than seventeen.

And God, Mary acted as a sweet angel. She was clumsy, threw and shed a dozen glasses in just three hours, but the men watched her go. Like animals, they kept an eye on their prey.

Fred was in the kitchen. He carried the child in a noose on his chest while diligently stirring in the stew.  
Rebecca had to open a new barrel of beer, so she had some time to chat. "How do you like the new one?"

"I do not know yet."

"How are you?"

"Okay."

He probably didn't want to talk. Alright then.

Furthermore, her guess was correct. Room three was occupied until the early morning with constantly changing men. Rebecca had enough time to clean up.

Mary crouched on Maggie's bed. She whimpered to herself. Rebecca sat down on the edge of her bed and put an arm around her. "Why did he let that happen?" Asked Mary.

"He'll continue to allow it. He'll sell us." Rebecca went to her bedside table and gave Mary one of the bottles she drank every morning. "Here. With that, you don't have to carry a bastard at least."

Then she lay down in her own bed.

At noon, Rebecca was working on the porch. A drunkard had fallen over the railing yesterday - well, rather through. Now she had to fix it because Jonathan Gray and Fred had more important things to do.

With her sleeves rolled up, she nailed the boards for the new railing, hardly looked at the man who came. "We have a lunch break. Come back in half an hour."

"Good to know, but I'm not here for that."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm a friend - no, not really. I owe Kieran something."

"You're pretty unlucky, sir."

"I guess you're Mistress Duffy."

She put the hammer down. "You could say that. So, what you want, dammit?"

"According to your mouth, you're not quite a mistress, lassie."

"That's none of your business. What do you want?", by now she sounded even more annoyed and impatient.

"Kieran can't write and he knows you won't listen to him. So, please, listen to me. He's a stupid boy who doesn't pay attention to what he says. He sure wants to know you're safe. That's why he didn't tell us anything until we arrived with glowing pliers."

Rebecca took her hammer again and continued pounding.

"He wanted me to give this to you. He went crazy when we tried to take it off him." He put a blue hairband on the porch. "I'll be on my way then." He tipped his hat. "A pleasure."

"I'm sorry you wasted your time, sir."

But as soon as he was out of sight she put the headband in her skirt pocket.

Before work, Rebecca had given Mary some whiskey, which was why she managed to work in the first place. This day wasn't too stressful. Not many guests were there, which was probably due to the tax increase that was pronounced. A whiskey now costs 75 cents, otherwise, it wouldn't be worth it for Jonathan Gray.

"Becky, off to the three," he called to her.

Sobered, she left the tray at the counter and went into the hall.

In room two was a man who had been there several times. Not pleasant, not at all - but a lot less unpleasant than most. He was at least twice her age, but he seemed to be bathing regularly and hardly used any violence. She didn't fight back, moaned here and there, which encouraged Justus so that he was done pretty quick.

As always, she went into the kitchen afterward to freshen herself up. Today she heard a sob.  
Nobody was standing at the pot. She walked cautiously around the shelves, just to find Freddie. He pressed the child to his chest.

"Fred? Fred, what's up?" She walked slowly towards him. 

He looked through her. Seemed in pain as if he had sat down in a bear trap or his fingernails had been pulled. "She ... Cassie screamed. She was just hungry ..."

Rebecca knelt in front of him and stroked his head. "What is it?"

"He ... He has her ... The water trough..."

Her stomach turned. "What?!" Did he drown the child? Maggie's child - as if it wasn't enough that he drove her to the grave already! "Freddie, listen - listen to me... everything will be fine somehow, okay? Wait  
here."

He nodded with a look on his face as if he was about to hang himself.

Rebecca got up and went back into the hallway to breathe when room one opened and Mary stumbled out, holding onto the wall. Blood ran from her nose, her blouse was half-opened.

And Rebecca turned around. In the saloon the guests who had not been served for a while cheered, but she went behind the bar.

"Good thing you're there. Take care of the three tables, but then you have to go to room three. Where's Freddie?"

Rebecca put a couple of glasses on a tray and then picked up a bottle of whiskey. Instead of filling them, she took three large sips and closed it again.

"You are not getting paid for drinking! I will count that off your wages!"

"I am not getting paid anyway! Jonathan Gray you cocksucker!" And with the same force with which she hammered the nails, she hit the whiskey bottle on his head two or three times until it shattered. He fell on his knees and had a wound on his head.

Then she reached into her skirt pocket. When she rammed the potato knife into his throat, again and again, all she could hear was her scream. The guests had fallen silent.

Rebecca didn't really understand yet what she was doing. It felt like her body had started something she would never have been brave enough to do. She was sitting in the back of her head, watching herself, unable to control it. Though she could feel the heat rushing through her veins, burning her up in a rage, her skull growing tight in anger and his blood splashing against her skin.

It felt way too good, too satisfying, seeing his life floating out of his body.

He bled out as quick as the pig he was and yet she sank the short blade into him again.


	2. It's not yet day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca faces the consequences of her actions. She copes with the thought of the noose and tries to accept her fate, while the sheriff of Rhodes is absent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that it took me so long. I just lost track and had other priorities. The third chapter will follow soon and is going to be longer.  
> Once again, I'm sorry if my English sounds odd now and then, I'm not a native English speaker. Now, enjoy reading.  
> Livan

Chapter two – It's not yet day

The light of the evening sun shone through the window of the sheriff's office. By now a whole day had passed. Rebecca was sitting on the hard bed of a cell. Over and over she wiped off her shaking hands on her blood-soaked skirt. It felt disgusting, somewhat moist and sticky. Unable to look up from her own lap, she became more and more aware that she had hit the rock bottom. There was no way she could sink lower.

The remaining hours before she'd hang were countable on one hand. Well, as far as she could tell.

In front of the cell, there was the desk of the sheriff, who had been absent the whole time. Instead there stood multiple deputies, talking more or less calmly to each other. Loud enough for her to listen, but she didn't get too much of what they said. Not enough to make any sense as all she could focus on was the yelling inside her head. Shouting about what she had done and what they had done. Not coming to peace, not knowing what was worse. 

Rebecca had killed a man. Right in front of witnesses. It was truly a miracle that they hadn't shot her back then. Not that it made a difference, as she was about to get hung anyway.

If she was honest, she couldn't tell if it was worth it. As in, nothing was worth it to die for, and ending a life was the worst thing anyone could do, and yet she knew that she would kill -Jonathan Gray- again. Even if her body was trembling and she hadn't closed an eye ever since she did not regret it.

In no way this could have gone on. Maybe, if she wasn't about to get hung, more terrible things would happen. Maybe it was a fine outcome for her. Still, the thought of the noose made her feel very dizzy.

She could think all day long, the fact that she, by all means, didn't want to die encouraged her trembling when one of the deputies approached the cell to unlock it. A young, thin lad.

Her hands slid down her sides, just for her nails to dig into the old sheets. She held on to them with all of her remaining strength, but the thin lad easily grabbed her arms to put heavy handcuffs around them. Without more struggle, he lifted her up onto her jelly legs. "You're not gonna cause more trouble, are you?", he asked mockingly and then pulled her after him, out of the cell, then through the office and out onto the street.

Quite a few gawkers surrounded the sheriff's office. Of course leaving enough space for the deputy to do his work by leading Rebecca over to a cell coach. She walked after him resistless, her chains hanging loosely between them.

Once she found the courage to look up from the ground to look through the loud crowd, her eyes caught Fred's. He stood in the first row and nodded to her in approval, wearing a glad smile. She didn't return the favor. How in hell would she be able to?

Just before she reached the cell coach, she took note of the women, the whores, that spat after her. Same whores that had kicked her out of the cabin by Rhodes, back in the day.

In the coach, the deputy pushed her onto the bench and fixed her handcuffs to the wagon's ceiling. He threw one last daring glare at her before locking up the door. "Don't talk to her. She'll only try to wrap you 'round her finger," The deputy was talking to the driver "She'll insist that she's innocent, cry and all that crap. All of them are the same."

The driver growled deeply. "Oh, don't you worry 'bout me. I know exactly how to handle such scum." He surely did. At least the varnish of his rifle was faded out. It had to be used very frequently.

"Well then, be on your way."

And so he was. They left Rhodes quickly, passing the bumpy streets almost violently. Rebecca clung to her chains and tried to keep her feet steady on the ground. On one hand, the adventurous driving style of the man distracted her, on the other hand, she had no idea where they were going. As far as she knew, there was a platform in Rhodes, build exactly to hang people.

The man was very intimidating, and yet, what could he do that wasn't her destiny already? So she asked: "Where are we going?"

To her surprise, he answered less antagonized than she expected. "Saint Denis. The sheriff's not around, so you're getting a trial there."

All that meant was that she'd hang in front of even more people. Rebecca might have been naive, but not naive enough to assume there was any hope left for her. So she held tighter onto the chains, pressed her lips together and tried to stay calm as she looked along the changing landscape and the setting sun for one last time.

The sun set quickly behind huge plantations they passed and when the sky grew dark, they crossed a bridge that led into wetlands. A swamp forest. By now they drove a lot slower. Her skull felt tight and heavy. She couldn't remember the last time she had been that tired. It calmed her a little but made her feel slightly dizzy as well.

A pale mist floated between the overgrown woods. Mystical and creepy, but little did she care about that. Just then the driver spoke up again. "And... are you afraid to swing?"

He had to be kidding her. She was convinced that there barely were people that didn't fear death and she surely wasn't one of them. At the same time, his mocking antagonized her incredibly. It was probably the awareness of her trapped situation combined with her exhaustion that made her boil up so fast. "Fuck you."

Following, her heart skipped a beat. He drove up to the side of the road and stopped the wagon. And for sure they had not reached their destination yet, as mentioned, they were in the middle of a swamp.

Confused she looked up to him, only for her to realize that he was getting off the seat. With fierce steps, he got around the wagon. Oh, so slowly he pulled out his keys and unlocked the heavy cell door.

"What - what are you doing?" Rebecca moved as close to the carriage bars as possible, not that it'd help her in any way. She was at his mercy. Her eyes stuck on the man, who seemed to get bigger by each inch he moved. Broad and dark as he stepped in, only his eyes glared out of his shady features. Definitely, a man not to mess with. Her heart was pounding.

Then she remembered.

Rebecca knew him. She recognized him as the non-friend of Kieran. Immediately her tensed body relieved. He unlocked her handcuffs. She sighed deeply and took her hands to her chest. "We're out of the Grays territory. Had to leave it before doing anything."

She didn't question that, she was just glad that she was not yet to die. Rebecca didn't need to understand what happened now.

He gestured her to get up. "Alright. We shouldn't waste any time."

They freed the horses and tipped the wagon over. That way it looked... somewhat like an accident. Not a plausible one, but it didn't really matter. When he instructed her to follow him they left the road. A few meters into the wet swamp there was a clearing. In the middle laid a fallen, long-dead tree on which he had hitched up a horse.

How had he been able to set that up in such a short amount of time? All of this suddenly just felt so very weird. When he got onto the horse and held out his hand, she didn't take it. "Where are you riding to anyway?"

"Isn't that obvious?" It was. Maybe that was why she quickly gazed around, wondering if she had a chance to escape through the swamp. In the dim night light she'd get lost, but even before that, he would most likely shoot her. "Don't test my patience, woman. Hurry or imma tie you up and drag you after me."

He didn't seem like he was joking, so she let him help her up, taking place behind the saddle. With that their ride through the shallow paths of the swamp begun.

"Got yourself into quite some nasty business." Indeed she did. Claiming anything else was ridiculous.

With a low voice she said "Thank you," keeping her eyes on the way for maybe Rebecca was able to get some orientation. "for not letting me hang, you know."

"'m just doing the dirty work. As usual."

Rebecca acknowledged that with a nod, which of course, he couldn't see. "I am pretty sure you know my name. What's yours?"

"Arthur Morgan."

A name she had heard and remembered well from the O'Driscolls. He rode with Dutch Van der Linde for a long, long time and seemingly he was the filthiest piece of shit on the meadow, at least for them O'Driscolls, as he was shooting well. So well that there barely had been injured men, only tons of dead.

They rode through the night, out of the swamp and along some more plantations and small ranches until they reached a forest. A path led through it, leading up to a clearing.

At the very beginning of it, they got off the horse. The moment her feet touched the ground she realized how uncomfortable it was to be here. Like standing in a stranger's house and not really knowing where to sit.

He took his time unsaddling the horse, while she just stood aside and waited. Her eyes wandered over the tents and wagons, a few meters away. Fires were lit. She saw figures walking through the camp.

"What the hell are you still doing here?", Arthur asked when he turned around. "Get a move on. Kieran's... probably roaming somewhere at the horses." He gestured towards a group of horses. She gazed at him helplessly as she was. He sighed and added: "It's pretty late, so you should probably talk to Miss Grimshaw tomorrow. She's responsible for the women." With that, he left.

And she should probably too. Standing here would lead to nothing. For a second, she caught herself considering to run away, but just for a second. That would be way too ungrateful.

So, quietly she walked along the side of the camp, staying out of the light in the hope that she'd stay unseen for now. In no way she was in mood to meet new people, actually, she didn't really want to talk to Kieran. All she wanted to do was to sleep. But she had to talk to him. Had to be grateful, despite her feelings towards him. And now she remembered her last words to Kieran, every nasty word, and meant them. Still, he had her saved.

A few horses looked up when she approached them, glancing at her briefly before going back to grazing. Rebecca took a breath and looked around the horses, walked past them and slightly into some bushes, but there wasn't a sign of Kieran.

At least until he approached from behind. "Are you looking for something?"

A little shocked she turned around and stepped out of the bushes. "Kieran", she said and thought about what the hell she should tell him. It took her a long moment and a lot of courage to look at him. Despite the dark, she could tell that he was... terrified. Looking up and down at her. Clearing her throat, she brought herself to say: "Thank you for sending them."

Kieran stayed quiet and looked back down at her. Now she followed his eyes and realized that his terror wasn't the only thing that was visible in the dark. The stains, darker than the actual fabrics of her clothes, were just as clear to view.

Then he shook his head slightly, his voice distant as he asked: "Why have you killed this man?"

"It... it just was too much." Maggie, the child, all those men... "He deserved it."

"Deserved" He repeated slowly and looked away. "Who are you to decide such things?"

"Who are you to judge me? It's - it's not like you have never killed!"

"Because I had to – to survive! You, on the other hand, killed a man who didn't carry a weapon! Cold-blooded!"

Rebecca frowned. "How can you know that? You haven't been there."

"The newspaper said so."

She laughed up dryly. "You can't read."

"Someone read it out to me. But – that doesn't matter."

"I don't owe you an explanation." She said stubbornly. As she thought about it she actually did. "He was a bad – a really, really nasty person and I - had enough of him. And keep your mouth shut, I know that makes me much worse." Kieran kept quiet. And after the first bites of anger, the silence cooled the uncomfortable tension down. By now she knew it was up to her to apologize, just because he had saved her. But to do so she needed to know, "What happened? Everyone thought you were dead."

"Well, I was sure they'd kill me." Kieran tilted his head one way, then another. "After we fled from the campsite up the mountains I got lost in the storm. I basically ran into them. To get information they starved me. Tied me onto a tree once we got off the mountain. One day Bill, the big fella over there, brought pincers. I just... couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore."

She lowered her voice. "So you raided the camp with them? Did they also force you into shooting Ethan?"

"If I'm not to judge, you are neither. Especially not when you're looking like a butcher."

"A butcher?" she snapped, but then glared down on herself, remembering that he was right. "My bad." But Rebecca thought, that was the only thing he was right about. This day had been long. Too long for her. Barely had she been able to process what she had done and what happened. Furthermore, she could tell from his looks that he didn't understand anything either.

It was a dry but chilly April morning. The first pots and pails clinked, a child whined for a few minutes.

Rebecca woke up shivering. She had slept near the horses on the ground, half a meter from Kieran, who turned his back to her. He showed no sign of freezing. He had always been quite robust in that regard. Cold-blooded like a lizard. Of course, that was just an example, not an insult.

Her bladder squeezed, which is why she turned on her back. Gazing over the awakening camp down the little hill, she stood up. In the dim light she saw a few women walking around. But she had to do her deed, before asking for... instructions of any sort.

Passing horses, she came to the beginning of the forest. Walking a few meters into it she crouched down in the undergrowth and was careful not to wet her skirts. For a quiet moment, she sighed in relief and closed her eyes.

"So, what have we got there?" Suddenly the barrel of a rifle pressed to her temple. It was held by a curvy woman with curly hair. "Are you an intruder or the O'Driscoll girl?"

"May - may I get up?" The woman took the rifle down and nodded. Rebecca rose quickly. "I guess I'm the O'Driscoll girl."

The woman laughed. "You didn't really have to answer. We checked you out last night."

"Did ... you do that?" The woman nodded.

"Usually newcomers introduce themselves before they enjoy our hospitality. But let's forget that. We whores gotta stick together, don't we? I'm Karen."

"Rebecca.", she mildly responded, definitely overtaken.

"You know, Rebecca, you should be more careful. At least I'd be if I was in your place." Karen made her way out of the forest towards the camp. She gestured Rebecca to follow her.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" She wasn't sure whether this was supposed to be a threat or not.

"You can be sure I am not the sneaky type and yet you didn't notice me coming. Could've shot you easily. And 'round here are some people who don't really appreciate O'Driscoll company."

"Miss Jones!", yelled an old lady that stomped towards them. Not only was she wearing a serious expression, but she was holding a little boy as well. "Some of us don't appreciate having a lazy shit around either and yet here you are. Shut up and got to work."

Karen stared intensely at the woman for a moment, before she walked off. 

The lady didn't waste any time looking after her, instead, she observed Rebecca with sharp eyes. "Get yourself cleaned up. You can't walk through my camp like that." She waved towards the lake before pointing at a big wagon that stood pretty much in the center of the camp. "When you're done you can go and help Pearson out. Since Mrs. Adler took over different duties, he needs some assistance."

And so she did. Quietly she moved through the camp, while most men were still asleep a few women were up, collecting bottles and laundry or doing similar.

Mr. Pearson turned out to be a scruffy fellow. Slightly obese, thinning hair, and a red, runny nose. At least his hands were clean, which he used to chop a skinned rabbit.

After putting a pile of potatoes into a pot to boil them, she took some carrots and cabbage onto a breadboard. Of course, to cut them she needed a knife, so she looked around a little. "If you're looking for a knife, there should be one on the shelf."

"Thank you," she said and got behind him to take a look at the shelf. Said shelf wasn't really a shelf, it was a pile of chests and such. She took a knife, that was stuck in a soft piece of wood. 

Quickly she went back to the vegetables, but as soon as she stood there, knife ready to cut, she froze. 

His rattling echoed in her ears. How he choked on his own blood. The knife was warm and sticky in her hand that shook in tension. 

With another breath, she put herself together. Just cutting some carrots. That was all. 

As time went on, the camp was awakening further. The men started to get up, right beside Pearson's wagon was a small fire where some would grab a coffee. Right now, there was a slim, older man and a pretty girl that was collecting bottles earlier. She glared at Rebecca with obvious interest, which was relatable for her.

Well, Rebecca did not want trouble with anyone, so she shot her shot and smiled at the girl. Long seconds passed before this gesture was returned. She went back to cutting vegetables.

When Pearson said that they were done and he hung up the stew over the fire, it was almost noon. Multiple people had left camp. 

For a moment she stood there near the wagon, doing nothing. In a few, she'd look out for more work. Eyes wandering over the camp, she recognized Kieran, who once again seemed to be the caretaker for the horses. He was content, carrying hay over to the remaining group of horses. That was until some huge, bearded guy walked up to him. They were too far away for her to understand, but it was obvious that this was all but a friendly encounter. 

"That's just Bill. Always picking on the weaker men.", said the girl from the small fire. At her side was Karen.

"Boys will be boys.", meant Karen. "Anyway, Mary-Beth, that's Rebecca. Rebecca, that's Mary-Beth. Let's show you around."

Karen lead on, briefly gesturing towards Pearson's wagon, which backside they just passed. "You know Pearson, and the drunk there on the ground is Uncle. As fun as he is lazy." Uncle was even scruffier than Pearson. Wearing dirty undergarments, covered in stains, a not less scruffy dog tapped over and started licking puke from the man's grey beard. "And that is Cain. Little Jackie's dog."

They went on, leaving this pleasant sight behind. "Is little Jackie a nickname or actually a kid?" Rebecca couldn't be sure. She knew multiple people that were called "little" or "young" when by far, they weren't. 

"A child."

"The boy that was with Miss Grimshaw earlier? Isn't he... a bit young to own a dog?", asked Rebecca.

Mary-Beth shook that off. "Oh, no that must have been Evan. Jack's older. Four already."

"Isn't that still too-"

Karen broke her off. "I think it's none of your business how any children that aren't yours are being raised. It's the concern of Abigail and John."

"Right" Rebecca bit her tongue and hoped that she hadn't fucked up. 

Then, Mary-Beth chuckled slightly. "Well, I don't think that John would agree with your statement, Karen."

The blonde threw a quick smirk at Mary-Beth. "Probably not. Alright, those shelters are from John and Arthur, and of course, the big one is from Dutch and... Miss O'Shea."

Again Mary-Beth raised her voice playfully. "Oh, we'll see about the last part." 

While Rebecca remained quiet and confused, Karen's smirk grew wider. With a deep voice, she said: "There is something about you, Mary-Beth." Obviously quoting someone.

The brunette giggled, then shushed her friend. "Miss O'Shea's coming." She nodded towards a red-haired lady that threw a single sharp glare at them, heading to the big tent, where she took place. She moved in a way, elegant and smooth. Fine fabrics covered her body and her powdered nose was raised high, above those regular women. She was proud and mighty, nothing but stunning. Not quite in the right place, as she was basically sitting in the dirt. A better fitting place for her would be a palace, and maybe right that was so very stunning about her. 

After staring a little too long, Rebecca found herself back in reality and realized that the other two women had kept on walking, so she hurried to catch up with them.

The day grew old and her stomach growled. Many of the others had taken stew, so she did the same. Looking out for company she found Kieran, who was sitting under a tree, away from the others. He was carving. She joined him. "Can I sit with you?"

"You don't need to ask," he said, making room for her. "I see you've made a few friends."

"I wouldn't say that just now. Just worked a little. At least ... Whatever. Mary-Beth is kind, while Karen makes me ... well, she's... kinda scary."

"I know. But believe me, Karen is nothing compared to Mrs. Adler." Kieran giggled. "But you're better with the girls after a day already than I'm with the men after... two months? Three?"

"Oh right. I saw you having trouble with... Bill?" The stew was pretty good. Potatoes and a bit of meat. Warm and quite satisfying to eat after this day. Actually, the first thing she had eaten in quite a while. "And if you say that you don't get along with the men, then how the hell did you get them to rescue me?"

He stopped carving, looked at the rough shape of the figure he made and put it aside. "It's not like I don't have a single friend here. Mary-Beth for example. As you said, she is really kind. She's teaching me to read, and-"

"You're learning to read?", Rebecca asked in surprise, "I didn't know you wanted to."

"Figured a man should know how to read.", he said with a fraction of pride in his voice. "Anyway, she found the article about... Rhodes in the newspaper. Luckily I caught Dutch in a great mood and Arthur owed me something. Saved his life at the raid. Thus they used the advantages of being... deputies and that's how you got here." 

Of course, she was aware of the luck she had have, but how much luck actually had been necessary for her to live was nothing but breathtaking. That's why she didn't say a thing and just slowly moved her eyes away from Kieran, back to the bowl in her hands. 

Kieran sighed. "All of this is such a madness. They are diving deep into the weirdest businesses. Them being deputies and all... working for both the Braithwaites and Grays and... creating their very own feud with some Raiders," His voice got shallow as he continued "We should stay low and try to keep ourselves out of their mess."

"Then why don't we get away from here?", she asked. Not to be unthankful, but she had understood that gangs brought nothing but trouble. 

"No, I don't want to leave them. I want them... to trust and like me."

"I thought they captured and tortured you."

"They did, yes, but some of them are good, kind people. Like Mary-Beth."

Rebecca tilted her head, frowning. "Are you really saying that you want to stay with another gang, because of another woman?"

"No, no that is not was I meant. - And actually, if I did you shouldn't judge me, because... you," He broke off in his sentence, and it was good that way, as Rebecca felt some deep anger boiling up. "She was just an example because you know her. Here are many other great people, like... Mr. Strauss. He isn't even a bandit, he lends poor people money, helps them out – and of course Arthur – he is rough and acts all tough, but he actually is such a gentle, ...uh, well not to me, but I've heard him talking with some women and Jack – I'm missing the point. But the main reason is Dutch. I've never heard a man like him before. He is so wise and those people, all of them, truly believe in him and with that in something. It's not like with them O'Driscolls. Alright, they are not too different either but-" He sighed and finished his sentence in thoughts.

She didn’t say a word. What he wanted to do was what they would do. She’d obey him, mostly he chose the right things anyway. It was just a little odd how sweet he seemed to be on those people, considering what they had done to him and still were doing. It was usual for her husband to get shoved around by other men. He was just too gentle in many ways. But acting like that after being kidnapped, and hell, after – in a way it was the Van der Lindes fault, that their child had died. Something he probably didn’t even consider. He hadn’t asked what happened to it. Didn’t he notice that she was no longer pregnant? Wasn’t he curious why he was no father? All he had asked was why she killed a man. Didn’t he wonder why she wasn’t with the O’Driscolls no more? 

Rebecca was shivering out of disgust and anger and he didn’t take note of that. He was somewhere else, far too deep in his mind. 

While being too distant at day, he came way too close at night. It was cold and raining. They were all soaked, though sleeping under a tree. He got closer and closer in his sleep. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, felt his broader frame against hers and his arm wandering around her, tugging her in.

She couldn’t close an eye. She could barely breathe. Somewhere inside her brain was a memory of a time when she had sought his touch, had found comfort in his embrace, but it was buried under the groaning, cruel men that she heard and felt. Their voices, their filthy hands on her filthier skin. 

Rebecca quickly freed herself off his arm, without waking him up. She stood up stumbly and started walking towards the shore. Since she was soaked already, the rain didn’t make any difference. Freezing felt easier than feeling him right now. The woman felt sick, deep in her guts. Sick and guilty. She had too much of everything. 

In the morning the rain had ended. The whole camp was muddy and most of the people were soaked. Thus, the atmosphere was rather low as everyone quietly drank their coffee, ignoring the crying child that only stopped long after Miss Grimshaw had changed him into dryer clothes. 

The women found themselves in front of a great pile of laundry. For a great part, the clothes of everyone only needed to be hung up. Still, the number of muddy fabrics was remarkable. Hours passed until everything was scrubbed clean again. In those hours she had sat between Mary-Beth and Tilly. 

Tilly was a young girl that dressed as fancy as Miss O’Shea. She had a lot of stories to tell in which she revealed that even though her dress was fine, her tongue was not. She could curse like a sailor and she took every chance to do so.

While washing Rebecca got the chance to take a closer look around the camp. The other people there. A woman with a child, "Abigail", explained Mary-Beth, sat a little isolated on a stool and mended a shirt. Not too far stood a man with a bottle and a face full of scars, now and then glancing over to her, then shaking his head and walking off. 

Miss Grimshaw walked her rounds through the camp, inspecting everything and making sure that at least the women worked, while some men sat around all day. 

Another woman that caught Rebecca’s attention was Mrs. Adler. She kept up guard, walking through the nearer woods with a rifle, now and then along the shore. She wore a bitter expression and Tilly warned: "Better stay away from her. She is a great woman, but – I doubt that she wants to have anything to do with a former O’Driscoll girl."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! I'm always glad to get feedback and criticism, so feel free to leave those.  
> Please tell me if the chapters should be shorter or longer.  
> Have a great day,  
> Livan


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